


There'll Be Peace When You Are Done

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coping, F/M, Happily Ever After, I had too many Winchester!Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The happily ever after Sam and Dean so desperately deserve, as imagined by me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There'll Be Peace When You Are Done

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only half-way through season two (so that's the reason for the lack of angelic presence), but I had too many feels. So I wrote the ending I want for the boys.

             Sarah picked up the vase, turning it around in her hands and flipping it over to examine the bottom.  She made a few notes on the tablet next to her, as the door to the warehouse opened with a loud screech.

            “I’m sorry, we’re not open today.” She began automatically in a diplomatic voice, continuing to make notations about the vase in her hand.

            “Sarah?” a man’s voice asked.  He sounded familiar.  Sarah looked up, and just about dropped her vase.

            “…Sam?” Sarah carefully put the vase down, before walking around the table towards him.  “Is it really…wow.  Just, wow.” She stepped back. “It’s been-”

            “Five years, eight months and two days.” Sam interrupted.

            “Is that supposed to be your apology for never visiting, or even calling?” she asked, a smile forming on her face in spite of herself.  Sam laughed a bit, his own half-smile forming as he looked down then back to her.

            “Yeah, I guess.”

            They shared a smile, then were silent.

            “So” Sarah began, stepping forward again. “Where have you been?”

            “To Hell and back.”

            “Literally?” Sam shrugged.

            “Something like that.” There was another minute of quiet, before Sam spoke again. “I just hope I’m not too late for that second date.”

            Sarah pretended to think about it for a minute, then quickly grabbed the lapels of Sam’s jacket, pulling him down for a long kiss.

            “I think you arrived just in time.”

 

~*~

 

            Dean reached into the hole, pulling out one last handful of dirt.  He picked up the mason jar, looking at it for a minute, before placing it in the freshly dug hole and covering it up again.  He stood up, brushing the dirt off his hands and quickly wiping at his face. 

            _There. Done._ He thought.

            He paused for a second, then looked around the graveyard, checking to see if anyone was near by.  He was alone.

            He stuffed his hands in his pockets, and took a deep breath, clearing out his throat.

            “I, uh,…don’t really know what to say.” He began awkwardly, looking anywhere but at the grave in front of him. “Sam would know what to say…but he, ah, he couldn’t come.  Well, he didn’t know.  He’s in New York.  And should be keeping out of trouble, you know, hopefully.  We both will, Dad.”

            He dared a look at the gravestone.  Mary Winchester, it read.  He cleared his throat again and looked away.

            “Sam told me about the college funds.” He smiled wryly. “Could really use that money now.  Don’t know what I’m gonna do now-” Dean stopped as he caught sight of his car, with someone leaning against it.  Jo looked at him for a minute, then looked away.  He looked down, suddenly feeling embarrassed, and when he dared a look back up, she was sitting in the passenger seat.

            He frowned for a minute, then he looked back down to the gravestone.  If he didn’t know any better, he could swear that it was looking back at him, as if raising an expectant eyebrow.  Dean smiled.

            “Thanks, Dad.”

            Dean left the cemetery, and got into the Impala, driving away without looking at Jo. 

            It wasn’t till several miles down the road that he asked,

            “Did Ellen send you?”

            Jo looked over to him and replied,

            “No.”

            He glanced at her, and a few more miles passed by.

            “Then why’d you come-”

            “Dean, it’s been over five years. When the hell are you going to ask me to marry you?” Jo asked bluntly, folding her arms across her chest.

            Dean blinked a few times, and did a double take.  Jo simply raised her eyebrows and waited.  Dean coughed and cleared his throat again.

            “Uh,” he swallowed again, all the moisture had suddenly evaporated from his mouth. “How about …next week?”

            Jo sat back in her seat, a smug smile forming on her face.  “Will it involve REO Speedwagon?”

            Dean smiled to himself and replied, “If it has to.”

            “Deal.”

 

~*~

 

            And he did.  Dean stood outside her bedroom window, holding up a boom box playing “Can’t Fight this Feeling”. Feeling completely ridiculous and yet, insanely happy at the same time, as Jo ran out of the house to kiss him.

            Sam was Dean’s best man, and Dean was his.  They both thought that it felt strange not having John there to help Dean straighten his jacket one more time or tie Sam’s bow-tie.  But they agreed that he was there, somehow.  If anyone could do it, John Winchester certainly could, and he would make sure Mary was there too.

            It was strange not having their parents there for the birth of their grandchildren; a girl for Sam and Sarah and two boys for Dean and Jo.  Life certainly wasn’t perfect; sometimes it would feel like their past was haunting them.  There were herbs in the walls of their homes, emergency exorcism kits underneath the stairs along with the flashlight and extra batteries.  Sam and Dean both sat up all night long on the six-month birthday of each their children; a gun in one hand and a bottle in the other.

            But sometimes life felt almost normal.  Like when the two families would get together every Labor Day weekend at Sam and Sarah’s place. 

            The smell of slightly charred hamburgers would drift over the large backyard, as Dean continued to tell Sam “if you just keep the fire lower, you won’t burn them as much, Sammy”.  Jo and Sarah would sit on the porch swing and chat as the kids ran around, occasionally calling out, “Neal, Malcolm, put down those sticks before you put out an eye” “Lilly Mary, it’s not nice to sit on your cousin”. 

            Inevitably, Dean would give up on the lost cause of Sam’s hamburgers and join in the game with the kids.  Always, it would only be after Dean had joined, that the kids could convince Sam to join.  Sam would claim that he had to guard the grill, but eventually put down his spatula and pick up Lilly Mary, running away and yelling something about dragon pirates.

            Though eventually the brothers would end up on the grass, panting and declaring “Daddy’s not as young as he once was”.  The kids would run off and Dean would catch Sam’s eye and they’d both have the same thought.

            The thought that yes, they had had incredible adventures and had seen things most people couldn’t imagine, there was nothing to compare with this.  They may have been denied a family and a childhood, but they could give it to their kids.  And somehow, it was just fine.


End file.
